


Almost Lover

by maniclust



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Giving thanks, Heartache, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniclust/pseuds/maniclust





	Almost Lover

[”Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream. I’m trying not to think about you. Can’t you just let me be?”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDEEzS7OV2k)

 

Outwardly, I am a small boy in a man’s body. The self that I project isn’t a lie, but it isn’t entirely the truth either. I _do_ enjoy video games, fantasy genres, Lego, and making an ass out of myself. The last bit comes naturally and is a great way to mask the nearly debilitating panic that comes out of nowhere and threatens to make me absolutely useless. Pretending to be confident and not give a shit about what is going on around me is a great way to try and convince _myself_ that nothing is going to hurt me. 

The kids love me. I’m a cool dad and the favorite uncle. I’m not afraid to get down on the ground and let them bury me under couch cushions, walk all over me, or braid my hair. As long as they are happy, I’m happy. For those hours that I spend building blanket forts and pretending to be the bad guy so that my son can save the princess (his mother or sister) I’m truly happy. There aren’t obligations or expectations of me. I don’t have to be something I’m not. I just have to lose myself in the way that I used to be. 

Singing in the most obnoxious way possible is my way of hiding that I’m afraid that most of the time I’m not good enough. Yes, I have my moments and I know that if the stars are all aligned my voice can sound beautiful, but it isn’t his, and I’m keenly aware of that. It doesn’t come easy to me the way that drumming does. Putting myself out there never has so I revert back to the same coping mechanisms that he taught me when I was younger. Laugh at yourself and people will laugh with you. If not? Flail your arms and make the most obnoxious sound in the world and they will leave you alone out of the simple fear that whatever you are is contagious.

He used to be the only person that could calm me down. I’d curl into him with my face pressed against his chest and he would wrap me up in his arms, whispering missives into my hair and telling me silly stories he remembered from when we were too little for me to recall. I lost count of the number of times I woke up pressed against his chest after a particularly bad night on tour where I was sure I couldn’t do it any longer. Not once did he ever complain about how needy I was -- not once. Instead, he would smile at me when he saw that I too was awake and tell me that he’d worked up an appetite for bacon. When I would inevitably ask him what he had done to work up an appetite his answer was always the same. _Protecting you, of course._

I quickly learned to stand just behind him and a little off to the side when I needed to center myself. Subconsciously, I was putting myself directly in his shadow, but that was okay. Better to be cast in his shadow than be exposed fully to the light where I had no protection. Even if he couldn’t wrap his arms around me in those moments and whisper that it was going to be okay, I still felt like it would. He was right there and if I needed him, I could reach out and touch. I’ve seen pictures of the way I look at him when I’m seeking out that sort of comfort. The fact that I tend to look like a love sick puppy dog isn’t lost on me, nor is it on him. If it seems like someone is getting ready to point it out, he makes a joke about it before they can. That doesn’t bother me. I know he’s just protecting me and I love him all the more for it. 

Once was all it took. That one moment that I wish I could take back and relive all at once. The clear look in his eyes as he tried to figure out if I was drunk, high, or if I had just lost my damn mind all together. The look of appraisal that made me feel like he was really seeing me for the first time -- realizing that I wasn’t a small boy anymore, but a man. A man that still hasn’t figured out just who he is deep down inside. A man that needs his best friend more than anything, but realizes that sometimes the things that we need are just outside of our grasp. 

Just once. One kiss. The feeling of his hair tangled in my fingers as my lips met his and twenty years of living in close quarters with one another culminated in an action I was helpless to stop. He kissed me back. In my mind he was just as helpless as I was to prevent it from happening. The taste of him on my tongue was of coffee and mint chocolate. I’ll never forget that combination. I don’t even like coffee and yet … I can’t explain it. I know I won’t ever be able to explain it because I’ve tried. Just to myself. Never to anyone else. It wasn’t sexual. It was never meant to be. If anything it was sensual, passionate, and a way to convey just how much I cherished him. I couldn’t think of a better way to say thank you for his years of devotion to his messed up little brother.

Eight children between us has made those moments that we get to spend alone together few and far between. When I see him kneel down to kiss one of his children when they are upset, I feel a sense of pride. Pride that he’s my brother and that maybe, just maybe, all of those years of taking care of me prepared him for this life he’s leading now. Where it’s easy for him to put himself aside for that moment and scoop up whatever miniature version of him is expressing pain and heartache. They are the ones that get his missives and words of comfort now and that’s the way it should be. He’s their protector. Their hero. Their sense of comfort the way he was mine for so many years. 

There is a sense of loss and heartache in my chest that comes along with knowing that he had to move on to his family. I’ve learned to cope in other ways as the years have passed by. We both have our families and as many times as I laid curled against him growing up wishing that we could stay like this forever, I knew it wasn’t possible. Even now, sometimes, when we are in a room together it feels like we are light years apart. Still, I can’t stop myself from slipping into his shadow for that sense of comfort that he can still bring just by being near. That’s something I know that I won’t ever be able to let go of and he would never make me. There are times when he makes me feel like it was easy to transition from being my protector to theirs… that he doesn’t miss the way things used to be. But then, he finds a way to bring me back to center. 

I had fallen asleep on the floor beside my newborn son, one hand holding his little fingers and the other tucked up under my head. We were in the middle of a family function to celebrate his birth, but the lack of sleep that came along with tour and having a newborn had been too much for me. The protector in me made it impossible for me to fall into too deep of a sleep lest he wake and need me, so I was subconsciously aware of the room emptying to give us peace and quiet. I felt his presence before I felt his fingers gently pushing through my hair. My eyes blinked open to find him kneeling over the both of us, camera dangling around his neck, the screen revealing that he’d taken at least one photo of us sleeping. Part of me knew it was likely more than one. He always did love to capture a moment. 

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. I watched as he leaned down and pressed his heart shaped lips against his nephew, the little boy instinctively letting out a soft sigh in his sleep at the loving touch. Tears sprung into my eyes at seeing that display of affection from him to my son. I barely had time to process before he was leaning over me and his mouth pressed against mine as his hand moved through my hair once more. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough. _I’m proud of you_. His words were a faint whisper against my ear where he placed another kiss before straightening up and leaving us alone once more. 

I’ve come to learn that when it comes to people and situations -- sometimes it isn’t the certainties that guide you through the day. Sometimes it’s the _almost_ that keeps you up and moving. Those moments that refuse to let you go. As long as you can learn that you can’t live in the almost and you need to keep moving toward the future, you’re going to be okay. And I am. Deep down I know that if I’m not all it would take is one phone call and he would be there. To do what? _Protect me, of course_.


End file.
